


You're a work of art

by stilljustbitten



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Andres goes to an art workshop, Blowjobs, First Times, M/M, Martin is a nude model, Sexual Tension, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilljustbitten/pseuds/stilljustbitten
Summary: He looks up from his drawing pad when the door suddenly opens, slamming against the wall next to it, and a guy storms in. He looks like he just got out of bed, only wearing a robe and a pair of worn-out sneakers, his hair completely disheveled. The guy is panting like he just ran a marathon, and looks around him, bewildered. Andrés briefly wonders why anyone would wear a robe to an art class until the organizer of the class approaches the guy, and it dawns on him; the guy is the model.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 90
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Berlermood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berlermood/gifts).



> First of all, I'm proud to present to you, the fic that has occupied my mind 24-7 for the last couple of weeks. It has been exciting and exhausting.
> 
> The credit for the idea behind this fic goes to Berlermood (even though she was asleep when she got it). This fic is my gift for you - my partner in crime, my true inspiration <3 It has been an honor working with you.
> 
> Dear readers: Enjoy the ride!

“Thank you once again, _hermanito_. I’m sure I’ll enjoy the trip,” Andrés says right before he hugs Sergio.

“I’m sure you will. At least it will give you something else to think of. Take all the time you need. And for God’s sake, take care and don’t do anything stupid,” Sergio says before he nervously adjusts his glasses.

Andrés can’t help but laugh at his brother.

“You worry too much. See you when I get back.”

“See you. Don’t hesitate to call me if anything happens.”

Andrés lets out a sigh of relief when he’s finally on the plane. He isn’t a big fan of airports, too many people and too much stress over insignificant stuff, and the plane is nice and quiet in comparison. He orders a drink to celebrate that he’s finally free. This divorce took so much of his energy, compared to the previous one, because his ex-wife turned out to be a complete maniac. He ended up wallowing in self-pity for a couple of weeks, wondering why he never saw it coming, which is probably why Sergio gifted him this vacation. To force him out of the house, and maybe even to escape his whining for a while. Either way, Andrés is grateful, and he can’t wait to see the beautiful women Argentina has for him.

When he steps out of the airport in Buenos Aires, the bright sunlight makes him squint and immediately reach for his sunglasses. The weather is just like he expected, not too hot, not too humid, though he feels a little sweaty wearing his blazer. But it makes him look elegant, so he keeps it on during the ride to his hotel.

He is a little surprised by Sergio’s choice of hotel. Sergio knows his taste, sure, but he didn’t expect something this— luxurious. The hotel consists of the main building, a 12-floor marble tower, and a French Renaissance-style mansion. Judging from the papers in Andrés’ hand his room is located in the tower, on the 11th floor.

The lobby is buzzing with people talking. It’s a beautiful place, really. Polished floors and inviting chairs and couches. Andrés takes a look around after checking in and considers trying out one of the comfortable armchairs. He decides against it, after a long flight where he wasn’t able to get any sleep, and he won’t risk falling asleep in the lobby.

Passing one of the tables, he notices a flyer and picks it up. It’s for an art workshop this upcoming weekend. “Our main focus will be the human body,” it says, and there’s even a free lesson tomorrow morning. “Why not,” he thinks and puts the flyer in his pocket. He brought all of his art supplies, after all, hoping to get some time to paint. If he wakes up in time, he might as well try it out.

Despite being too tired to fully appreciate the extravagant hotel room, Andrés does notice the huge bed with the silky cushions, which he can hardly wait to lie down on. He takes a look out the window and is almost taken aback by the view; the city around the hotel is full of life and lights in different colors. He also notices the huge, lighted, probably heated, pool and the beautiful gardens next to the hotel.

He closes the curtains again and goes to brush his teeth in the marble bathroom. He briefly considers using the bathtub to relax, but he’s afraid to fall asleep in the water. He decides to wait another day, maybe even find a beautiful woman to join him, since there’s plenty of room for two. 

When his head hits the pillows, he falls asleep almost immediately.

Like every other time he visits a new city, he isn’t able to sleep in after the first night at the hotel. He wakes up as soon as the sun rises and decides to go to the hotel restaurant to get some breakfast before heading to explore the city.

When he picks up his jacket, the flyer for the art workshop falls out of the pocket. Andrés totally forgot about that, but looking at it again, he’s actually intrigued. He knows how to draw, how to paint, but he is always open to new inspiration, and it’s an opportunity to see what Buenos Aires has to offer. When he flips it over to look for the address, he notices that the class will feature a nude model. Well, so much more reason to attend.

After a shower and a surprisingly nice breakfast, he decides to walk to the art school where today’s lesson is taking place. After all, the weather is nice again today, and he gets a chance to see some of the city, even though the walk to the school isn’t very long. 

When he enters the room where the lesson is supposed to take place, most of the seats are already occupied, and the only ones left are the ones closest to where the model will be seated. He likes to sit in the back, where no one can look over his shoulder, so he considers leaving again. But then again, he will have a better view of the woman’s body from the front seats, so he sits down and puts his supplies on the small table in front of him.

He has done this a couple of times before, as fascinated by the female body as he is. Not only in a sexual way, but the mere beauty of the proportions and the curves is a work of art to him. Sure, the models in these classes are not always beautiful and sexy in an objective manner, but no matter the age or shape, Andrés continues to be amazed. It’s not that he doesn’t have his preferences - if today’s model is young and firm, it would certainly brighten his day.

He is randomly sketching, trying to decide which pencil to start with when he notices the people around him muttering something about being late. He looks at his watch, and sure enough, the class should have started 10 minutes ago. 

He looks up from his drawing pad when the door suddenly opens, slamming against the wall next to it, and a guy storms in. He looks like he just got out of bed, only wearing a robe and a pair of worn-out sneakers, his hair completely disheveled. The guy is panting like he just ran a marathon, and looks around him, bewildered. Andrés briefly wonders why anyone would wear a robe to an art class until the organizer of the class approaches the guy, and it dawns on him; the guy is the model. 

Andrés raises an eyebrow. A male model. This is new. He has to admit that he’s a bit disappointed, having expected a woman, but now he’s here, and he intends to make the best of it. 

The organizer shows the model to the stage, where the young man takes a quick, nervous look around before he discards his shoes and his robe on the floor and stands there. Very naked. 

“We’ll start out with 4 times 3 minutes,” the organizer announces.

The model sits down on the small stool on the stage, still breathing rapidly, his cheeks visibly flushed. His first pose is a normal sitting position, his hands on his knees, Andrés isn’t sure the guy even intends it to be a pose, but the organizer starts the timer. 

He watches the model close his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and focusing his eyes on the opposite wall. He’s nervous.

Andrés chooses a pencil and quickly sketches the outline of the model. This isn’t so bad. Not as awkward as he first expected seeing he was going to draw a man. A guy. He isn’t that old, probably still a student, judging by his appearance. He wonders what a guy like him is doing as a nude model, he definitely doesn’t look like one of those artsy hipsters you normally find in places like this.

When the model changes his pose, Andrés realizes that he didn’t draw anything but the outline. Well, time for improvement then. The model turns his back to the room, still sitting down, straightens his back, and grabs the edge of the seat with both hands.

Andrés once again draws the outline but has to correct it, because he made the shoulders too narrow. Like a woman’s. This guy’s shoulders are broader, even though he’s not exactly the buff type. Andrés angles the pencils to draw some shadows on the back and notices the tiny droplets of sweat between the shoulder blades. He wonders how he’s going to draw them when suddenly, time’s up, and the model moves. Again.

The next pose is a sitting pose too, the model still not facing the room, and this time Andrés actually manages to draw something that looks like a human being.

Andrés rummages his pencil case for a new pencil, and when he looks back up, the model is standing, facing the room. His eyes are still trained on the wall behind everyone, but his stance is confident, his hands on his hips. His breathing has stabilized, his chest heaving just the slightest with every breath, and he isn’t blushing anymore. What a shame, Andrés thinks, he wanted to catch the exact shade of pink on his paper. 

Andrés draws the shape of his torso and stops at the point where it meets the hips. Fascinating. It’s more of a straight line, not as curvy as the women he’s used to draw. He draws the long fingers digging into the flesh on the hips, showing a hint of nervousness despite the model’s confident stance. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, now we’re moving on to a few 10 minute poses.”

He mutters under his breath, not at all finished with his previous sketch. 

It’s harder than Andrés initially thought, drawing the male body, so he’s happy to have more time. The model changes his angle a bit, turning his side to Andrés, putting his hands behind him, making his hips stick out.

Andrés is quick to draw the rough outline, planning to actually make a decent drawing this time. He finds that he doesn’t miss the curves of the female body. This guy has curves too, on his belly, his firm thighs, his ass. Andrés struggles to get his ass right, it’s curvy, but in a different way. Definitely more muscular. He realizes that he spent a couple of minutes working only on the ass, and decides to move on. At the same time, he realizes that his pants are suddenly uncomfortably tight. 

Interesting. 

It makes no sense, though. His body never showed any interest in the male forms. He decides that the curves probably reminded him of the female form, and moves on with his drawing, not giving it more thought. When this drawing is done, he notices how beautiful it really is. The curves, the sharp angles of the hips, the quite muscular back, and the jawline. 

The model once again takes a new pose, this time lying down on the floor, on his side, facing the room, an arm under his head and one of his legs bent. This pose really shows— everything. Andrés is unable to take his eyes away from the model’s legs. His thighs. More accurately between his thighs. The guy’s cock is— something. He doesn’t want to use the word beautiful, because after all, it’s a cock, but that’s the closest he gets. He knows that he’s staring, he knows he should at least move his pencil to look like he’s drawing, but it’s harder than it should be.

When he finally manages to look away, he doesn’t draw anything of what he just saw. He needs to process it first. So he moves on to the stomach, makes sure to get the shadows right, the navel, his chest, his nipples. They’re dark, and it’s impossible not to imagine how his tongue flicking over them would make them hard. He shifts in his seat, trying to ease the strain of his pants. He draws the neck, the jawline — that perfect jawline — and when he reaches the face, he finds a pair of piercing blue eyes staring right into his. 

His drawing will never be able to do them justice.

He feels himself blushing and crosses his legs, trying to hide the situation going on between them. But he keeps eye contact until the model looks away, back to the wall. For the next pose, he turns away from Andrés. 

They’ll have 20 minutes for the last drawing, and the model is on his knees on the floor, hands behind his head. Andrés thinks about how unpleasant it must be for him to sit like that for 20 minutes, but the pose gives Andrés access to see most of his body.

When he has drawn almost everything, he still has a couple of minutes left, and there’s still absolutely nothing between the legs on his drawing. He sighs and starts drawing the cock, throwing discrete glances in direction of the model’s crotch. His thighs are nice, not smooth, but also not too hairy. He imagines how they would feel under his fingertips, absentmindedly biting his pencil, when he notices a change. 

The model’s cock is undeniably bigger than before. 

When he looks at his face, the blue eyes are once again looking directly at him, this time wide and filled with panic. Andrés watches as he stumbles to his feet, grabs his robe, and storms out of the room. 

“Seems like the lesson is over,” the organizer claims in a mildly confused voice. “If you want to sign up for the workshop the following weekend, I will be right back.” 

He disappears out the same door as the model, and Andrés starts gathering his supplies when he hears loud voices which make him step closer to the door. 

_“Please, I— I really need the money. I’m sorry, I promise to do better next time.”_

_“Does that mean you will actually show up on time?”_

_“Yes! I promise. I’m sorry, please give me another chance.”_

_“Alright.”_

Andrés backs away when the organizer and the model walk back into the room again. Andrés’ eyes once again meet the model’s, like they’re drawn to each other, and the model looks away immediately, an embarrassed blush on his face.

“Thanks for an interesting lesson today,” Andrés tells the organizer when the model has left. “I’m considering signing up for the weekend. Will it, uh— Will we be drawing the same model?”

“I’m afraid so,” the organizer replies with a smile that looks almost apologetic.

Andrés gives an approving nod.

“Sign me up, then.”

The following night Andrés goes dancing, picks up a woman, and brings her back to his hotel room. When he takes her from behind, he doesn’t think of her. His thoughts are occupied with blue eyes, perfect jawlines, and sharp hip bones.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Martín. What are you doing when you’re not posing naked in front of strangers?”
> 
> Martín chuckles and looks at the flowers on the bush next to the table, shifting in his chair.
> 
> “Not much, really. I’m looking for a job. I just finished studying, and it’s kind of hard finding any work here when you have no experience at all.”
> 
> “What did you study?”
> 
> “I have a Master's in Civil Engineering.”
> 
> Andrés nods approvingly. Not only is he hot, but he’s also a genius. He internally curses himself for thinking something like that, he hasn’t even had any wine yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the nice comments and kudos on the first chapter!  
> I hope you like where the story is going - I know I do... ;)

Andrés isn’t sure why he’s even there. Sitting in the same room again a couple of days later, waiting for the workshop to begin. He doesn’t know why he feels so disappointed when he finds out that they will be learning about anatomy and the proportions of the human body the most of the day, and only later in the afternoon have the chance to use their knowledge while drawing the model.

He tells himself that the reason he looks forward to the afternoon is to understand what happened to him yesterday. To prove to himself that there’s nothing, his body simply made a mistake, because he hadn’t been with anyone for a while. Now that he fucked a beautiful woman yesterday, his body will be completely satisfied, and he will be able to concentrate on the drawing, not getting lost in blue eyes, perfect jawlines, or nice curves. 

The class turns out to be surprisingly interesting during the day, he manages to learn something new and useful for his future drawings. But he still keeps looking at his watch way too often, waiting for the model to arrive.

When the lunch break is almost over, Andrés is standing by the window, looking out on the street. The door next to him opens, and there he is. This time he’s wearing normal clothes, and he doesn’t look like he’s been running. He still looks a little nervous, and when he spots Andrés, he stops for a fraction of a second before closing the door behind him.

“Hello,” Andrés says, even though he feels like he shouldn’t.

The model looks up from the floor to Andrés and answers with a quiet “Hey”, a shy smile on his face. He continues through the room, eyes back to the floor.

Right at that moment, Andrés decides to once again occupy one of the front seats. He sits down, putting all of his supplies on the table, and waits. 

“Today we’ll focus on what you learned earlier about different styles for shadowing and coloring, which is why you’ll have 20 minutes for the two drawings this afternoon,” the organizer informs. 

When the model enters through the back door, already naked, his eyes meet Andrés’ for a second, and Andrés notices the corner of his mouth curl up almost into a smile. The model lies down on his back, props himself up on one elbow, bends one of his legs, and rests his other arm on the knee. He gazes out through the window, and Andrés notices how the faint light from the sun makes his azure eyes sparkle.

Andrés draws confidently, a quick sketch with one of his best chalks. He wants to play with the shadowing in this drawing, using the source and angle of the afternoon sunlight. The light makes the model’s leg cast a soft shadow over his stomach and chest, dividing his torso into a light and a darker side. Andrés uses another chalk to highlight the points on his chest, where the muscles are showing. The muscles which make the body look nothing like a woman’s, and yet, Andrés is once again very hard. 

He lets out a sigh and makes a quick decision.

When the class is over, and the model walks out through the back door to get dressed, Andrés quickly packs his stuff, trying to hide his still raging hard-on. The class empties, but he waits around, standing next to his table. 

After a while, the model comes back in, looking around the room, confused. 

“You know the class is over, right?” he asks.

Andrés laughs softly.

“Yes.”

There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“I was wondering if you would like to meet me for a drink later?”

The model doesn’t look any less confused, so Andrés adds:

“Sorry. I’m Andrés.” He sticks out his hand, and the model hesitantly shakes it.

“Martín.”

“Well, Martín.” He says the name slowly as if he’s tasting every syllable. “How about that drink? I’ve found a nice looking bar I would like to try.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it would be nice, but uh—” Martín bites his lip “—I really don’t have the money for that right now.” 

“Please don’t worry about that. Do you live nearby?”

Martín nods. 

“Meet me outside this building at 8,” Andrés says with a smile and turns to leave.

Right before he exits the room, Martín says a quiet:

“See ya.” 

Because he gets caught up in shaving properly and picking the right outfit, Andrés runs a little late. He sees Martín in the distance, waiting for him in front of the art school. His hands are buried in his pockets, and he looks around himself nervously. Andrés immediately feels guilty for being late and speeds up. He reaches Martín, who lets out a breath. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” he says, smiling nervously. 

“It would be incredibly stupid of me to ask you to meet me if I didn’t want to be there myself,” Andrés says. “And I’m sorry I was late.” 

“Don’t worry about it. At least you showed up.”

Andrés wonders exactly how many times Martín has waited for someone who didn’t show up, because judging from the tone of his voice, it has occurred more than once. When they start walking, he looks at Martín beside him and raises his eyebrows approvingly.

“You look nice.” 

Martín almost laughs and buries his hands even deeper in his pockets. 

“Are you kidding me? I’m just wearing normal clothes, while you’re— yeah.” He gestures towards Andrés’ suit.

Suddenly their conversation is interrupted by someone shouting.

“Hey, Martín!”

A group of three guys passes them, apparently some of Martín’s friends.

“Hey,” Martín says back, looking between them and Andrés.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but your date looks a little out of your league,” one of the guys says to Martín, just loud enough for Andrés to hear. 

Martín hisses something at the guy, who laughs, and walks away with the other guys. Andrés notices that Martín’s cheeks are blushing. A lovely color. 

“Sorry about that,” Martín says, not looking at Andrés. His jaw is clenched, and he looks furious. “My friends can be real morons sometimes.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Andrés reassures him. He doesn’t know what else to say. The only thing he thinks about, which absolutely shouldn’t be this important to him, is that Martín is apparently used to dating men.

The outside of the bar Andrés has chosen looks nothing like a bar. It looks like the front door of a mansion, but at least there’s a small sign with the name of the bar, telling them that they’re in the right place.

“Have you ever been here?” Andrés asks. 

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” Martín shrugs. “Are you sure it’s even a bar?”

“Pretty sure. Let’s go inside and have a look.”

They walk inside, and Andrés is surprised by the size of the place. The room is crowded with people dressed in fancy clothes, mingling, and sipping their drinks. Andrés marvels at the extraordinary interior for a moment and looks at Martín to share his enthusiasm. 

But Martín doesn’t look comfortable, on the contrary, he looks like he wants to vanish through a hole in the floor. Andrés frowns and curls his fingers around Martín’s arm. He ignores the almost electric feeling of their first touch, and the way Martín almost startles.

“Let’s go outside.”

When they exit the door across the room, they find themselves standing at the top of an elegant marble staircase flanked by ivy-covered walls. The stairs lead down to a garden with tables and benches all around, which is nowhere near as crowded as inside. Andrés keeps his hand on Martín’s arm when they descend the stairs and leads him to a quiet corner of the garden, a small table hidden behind a huge flowery bush. It feels more private, with faint music in the background and no other people in sight. 

He stops and reluctantly lets go of Martín’s arm.

“Do you feel better out here?” Andrés asks. 

“Much better.” Martín smiles apologetically, but instantly looking more relaxed. “Sorry, I’m just not used to places like this. I feel a bit underdressed.”

Andrés doesn’t resist the urge to let his hand touch Martín’s arm when he tells him:

“You look better than most of the people I saw in there. Anyway, it’s quieter out here, I like it.”

Martín looks around the garden with glistening eyes. 

“This place is huge. Three fucking floors.” He looks up the building and grins, and Andrés mirrors his smile, thoroughly enjoying his excitement. They sit down, and Andrés opens the menu on the table.

“What do you like to drink? Wine? Cocktails?”

“I don’t know,” Martín shrugs, “just the cheapest stuff they have.”

Andrés looks at him pointedly. 

“I told you not to worry about that. Red wine?”

“Sure.”

Andrés orders a bottle of wine and turns his attention to Martín. 

“So, Martín. What are you doing when you’re not posing naked in front of strangers?”

Martín chuckles and looks at the flowers on the bush next to the table, shifting in his chair.

“Not much, really. I’m looking for a job. I just finished studying, and it’s kind of hard finding any work here when you have no experience at all.”

“What did you study?”

“I have a Master's in Civil Engineering.”

Andrés nods approvingly. Not only is he hot, but he’s also a genius. He internally curses himself for thinking something like that, he hasn’t even had any wine yet.

“And why exactly is an engineer posing as a nude model?”

Martín runs his hand nervously through his hair and smiles. 

“To pay his rent. I figured the money would be easily made, after all, you don’t really have to do anything. Other than taking off your clothes, of course - which, I’ll admit, was a little awkward at first.”

“You did well.” Andrés looks Martín in the eyes and watches his cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink.

“Uh—” Martín doesn’t really know where to look. Luckily for him, the waiter arrives with their wine at that exact moment, demanding their attention.

Martín takes a sip and looks genuinely excited. 

“This is actually good,” he exclaims.

Andrés smiles, satisfied that he made the right choice. 

“So, Andrés,” Martín uses the opportunity to change the subject, “what are you doing when you’re not drawing naked men?”

Andrés can’t help but smile. 

“I live in Spain, so right now I’m on vacation, doing as little as possible. Enjoying the good things in life. Trying to escape the stressful reality.” He takes a sip of his wine. “I didn’t expect to end up drawing naked men, though. Let’s call it a wonderful coincidence.”

Martín blushes again, of course he does. He sends Andrés a curious look.

“You uh— you expected it to be a woman, right? You wanted it to be a woman.”

The last part sounds more like a fact, a realization, and Martín shifts in his chair, looking like he regrets asking.

“You’re right, I wanted it to be a woman.” He takes another sip of his wine and watches Martín fiddle with his glass. “But you didn’t disappoint me. It’s been quite an experience drawing you.” He watches how those words bring the light right back into Martín’s blue eyes and enjoys being able to affect his mood so easily. 

After the first bottle of wine, Martín starts talking. Andrés orders some fruity cocktails, and Martín drinks his eagerly, telling Andrés about a semester he once did in Spain. 

Andrés likes to see Martín relaxed, feeling at ease. He likes to see the way his eyes light up with passion when he talks about engineering. Andrés listens to his words, and even though he doesn’t understand half of it, Martín manages to captivate him. 

The sun is almost gone now, and their drinks, too.

“Do you want to see what’s on the top floor?” Andrés asks, and Martín nods eagerly. The effect of the alcohol is visible in the way he moves, and when Andrés walks behind him up the stairs, he finds himself staring at the beautiful ass in front of him. It’s not like there is anything else to look at, and those pants are so damn tight and well-fitted, it would be a shame not to admire the sight.

The top floor holds a large bar area, and the opposite end of the room is furnished with low tables and couches. Martín doesn’t seem to care about the other people anymore, his eyes are huge when he looks around and takes it all in. His eyes land on the couches.

“Let’s order some drinks and go sit over there,” he says in an excited tone. He looks like a kid in a toy store, and Andrés can’t say no to him.

Waiting for their drinks in the crowded bar, Andrés feels Martín close behind him. Close enough for Andrés to sense the heat radiating from his body. He has a feeling that if he gave the slightest permission, Martín’s hands would be all over him. It’s a thrilling feeling to hold this kind of power over someone. To know that if he wanted to, he could turn around and place his hands on those hips, kiss that jawline, let his tongue run down the smooth neck. His pants tighten around his growing erection. 

Grabbing their drinks, he takes a deep breath to compose himself before turning around, facing Martín. Yes, he definitely wants to know what it’s like to kiss him. He starts walking towards the lounge area before Martín notices anything. At least that’s what he hopes. 

When he sits down on one of the soft couches, Martín sits down next to him, luckily not too close. He crosses his legs and places the arm with his drink in a strategic way to cover as much as possible. Somehow he isn’t ready to be confronted with how his body reacts when he still doesn’t fully understand it himself.

“Mmh, this one is really good,” Martín says, sipping his bright pink drink. Andrés looks at the way his wet lips let go of the straw. The sight of it makes him blush.

Turns out he wasn’t just attracted to Martín because he was posing naked.

Martín looks at him, barely hiding a smirk. Andrés has a feeling that he knows exactly what’s going on.

“You should try it,” Martín proposes with a confident smile, proving Andrés right. He holds the drink between them, and without breaking eye contact, Andrés leans in and wraps his lips around the straw. He smirks when he hears the hitch in Martín’s breath and takes a sip of the drink. Delicious. 

When he leans back, nodding approvingly, Martín asks in a low voice:

“Tell me, why did you, a tall, handsome stranger, decide to ask a poor, naked student out for drinks?”

Andrés isn’t sure he even has an answer to that question.

“Let’s say I was— intrigued.”

Martín raises his eyebrows in a way Andrés can only interpret as downright flirty. 

“Tell me more.” 

He moves closer to Andrés and angles his leg so his thigh touches Andrés’. Andrés struggles not to move his leg away when he feels the warmth from Martín through his pants. It feels so good to finally touch him, but something still doesn’t make sense.

He shakes his head slightly.

“I can’t.” 

He isn’t even sure what he means. “I can’t tell you” or “I can’t do this”.

But Martín seems to catch on to the tone of his voice and moves his leg away.

“Alright.” 

The playful look in his eyes is gone, replaced by one of uncertainty, and Andrés hates that he did this to him. Martin turns his focus back to his drink, and they sit in silence for a while, listening to the music. Andrés’ thoughts are racing, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but since he doesn’t have an explanation, he closes it again.

Martín is the one to finally break the silence.

“I should go home, the workshop starts early tomorrow.” 

He places his glass on the table and stands up. Andrés does the same.

“Yeah, me too.”

The awkward silence is back when they walk out of the bar.

Martín is standing with his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet, looking anywhere but at Andrés. Andrés can’t shake the feeling that he did something wrong, but he has no idea how to make it right again.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” he tries.

“You really don’t have to, it’s not that far from here. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

Martín is about to turn around when Andrés instinctively steps towards him and grabs his arm.

“Martín, wait.”

Martín watches him expectantly, and Andrés panics mildly when he realizes that he doesn’t know why he stopped him.

“I, uh— I had fun tonight.”

Martín’s eyes light up a little.

“Really?”

He nods and looks at Martín’s lips, a bit of the color from the pink drink lingering on them. It doesn’t make sense how much he wants to taste them, to— 

He feels Martín shift and realizes that his fingers are digging into Martín’s arm. He let’s go of it instantly and looks back into Martín’s eyes. Then he nods. 

“Yeah, really. We should do it again someday.”

Martín doesn’t look fully convinced but smiles half-heartedly at him.

“Sure,” he says before he turns around and leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the last drawing before the break, Martín’s eyes finally meet his. Andrés becomes aware of his own rapid breathing and the way the fingers on his left hand are clutching the fabric of his pants. Martín only breaks his gaze when the time is up, and he puts on his robe and walks out the back door.
> 
> It quickly becomes clear to Andrés then, what his next step is. He’s well aware that he’s acting on instinct, letting his body take the lead, but he doesn’t really care. 
> 
> He stands up and follows Martín through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hear it too?
> 
> Listen closely.
> 
> It's the distant sound of FINALLY RESOLVED SEXUAL TENSION. Thank you for your patience

It’s the last day of the workshop, and Andrés is once again ready at the front table when it’s finally time for Martín to arrive.

He isn’t sure if he fucked up last night. Or if there was even something to fuck up. 

He doesn’t know what to make of his feelings about the whole thing with Martín, his body reacting to him the way it does. Last night convinced him that there’s definitely something he has to figure out. It’s not only about the urge to touch Martín, or how much he wants to kiss him - something he has never wanted to do to another man. It’s also the way he genuinely likes his company, and the guilt he felt when he ruined his mood last night. Ruined it because of his own insecurity and the feeling of panic when he realized how much he wanted Martín to flirt with him, to touch him. It caught him off guard, and he needed some time to process it, before deciding what to do. 

He still isn’t 100 percent sure what his next step is, but he intends to find out, which is why he returns to the workshop - he just hopes he didn’t mess up everything before getting to explore it.

Martín smiles at him when he enters the room, but he doesn’t seem at ease when he takes off his robe and poses. Andrés wants to reassure him, but he doesn’t know how, and Martín keeps escaping his gaze. 

Andrés draws for exactly two minutes before he’s once again extremely hard. He’s used to it by now, it doesn’t bother him anymore, that his body reacts like this to the sight of Martín. It’s uncomfortable, though, being hard and trapped inside his pants, and he wants to do something about it. More accurately, he wants Martín to do something about it. He wants him to use his strong hands, or his full lips, to relieve Andrés of the throbbing between his legs.

When Andrés becomes aware that he is clutching his pencil hard and staring at Martín without drawing anything, he shakes his head to clear his mind. He makes an attempt to focus on his drawing, but he will never be able to draw anything as perfect as the body in front of him.

During the last drawing before the break, Martín’s eyes finally meet his. Andrés becomes aware of his own rapid breathing and the way the fingers on his left hand are clutching the fabric of his pants. Martín only breaks his gaze when the time is up, and he puts on his robe and walks out the back door.

It quickly becomes clear to him then, what his next step is. He’s well aware that he’s acting on instinct, letting his body take the lead, but he doesn’t really care. 

He stands up and follows Martín through the door. 

Martín turns around when Andrés is right behind him, only to be pushed back into the nearest bathroom. He doesn’t fight back but looks confused when Andrés presses him against the wall with one hand.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice unsure.

Andrés doesn’t answer. He just looks Martín in the eyes while he unties the belt of his robe and sneaks a hand inside to place it against Martín’s chest. He slides it down to the stomach, feeling the muscles that he has drawn so many times, gaze still fixed on Martín’s eyes. They flutter shut for a moment, and Andrés already misses the blue color in the seconds before they open again.

“I didn’t think you, uh, wanted this. After yesterday, I mean.” 

Martín’s cheeks blush a delicate shade of pink, and the confusion in his eyes is adorable.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about yesterday, I wasn’t thinking clearly. It seems like I do want it,” Andrés says, and gently takes one of Martín’s hands and places it on his erection to prove his words.

Martín swallows hard and nods obediently. 

“I’ll take care of that.”

He gets ready to drop to his knees, and Andrés almost lets him, mesmerized by how pliant he is, how eager he is to please him. But instead, he grabs his arm and shakes his head.

“I need to feel you.”

The look on Martín’s face is priceless, his mouth half-open. Andrés can only imagine how those lips would feel around his cock, and he almost regrets his decision. But then he turns his attention back to Martín’s body, and slowly slides the robe down his shoulders, making it fall to the floor. He is surprised and genuinely turned on to see that Martín is already fully hard. 

Andrés places his hands on Martín’s hips and enjoys the feeling of the sharp hip bones under his palms. He lets one hand slide down the thigh, to feel the curves and firmness of Martín’s tense muscles.

“Andrés,” Martín almost pants, “what if someone walks in and sees us?”

Andrés smirks and lets his gaze wander down his body.

“I think they already saw everything.”

Martín chuckles. 

“I’ll have to be back soon, though. You know, people are waiting to draw me”

“Don’t worry, I won’t take much of your time.”

Andrés reaches to unbutton his pants, but Martín quickly takes over and opens them in one swift motion. Andrés sighs when the restraints of his pants are finally removed. Martín removes his boxers too and stops a moment to look hungrily at Andrés’ cock, before taking it in his hand, making Andrés moan a little too loudly.

He hesitantly wraps his fingers around Martín’s cock too, enjoying the hot, smooth skin under his fingers. It’s such a shame that he promised Martín not to take too much of his time, because he wants to revel in this new sensation, to take his time exploring all the features of Martín’s body that he’s been drawing so many times now. But a promise is a promise, so he starts moving his hand, eliciting a wonderful sound from Martín. 

Martín’s hand starts stroking him too, and his strong fingers around Andrés feel like nothing he has ever tried before. It’s rough and hurried and exactly what Andrés needs, what he’s been craving since he first laid eyes on Martín. 

His own need for release makes him quicken the pace of his hand, and Martín keeps making those lovely sounds, getting louder and louder. With his head thrown back, closed eyes and open mouth, he looks more beautiful than ever before. Andrés struggles to keep his own eyes open, he doesn’t want to miss this sight. 

“Oh God, Andrés—”

The sound of Martín panting his name and the little flick of Martín’s wrist makes him realize how close he already is.

Without a warning, Martín’s whole body shudders, and with a clenched jaw, he comes all over Andrés’ hand and arm.

He barely manages to keep stroking Andrés, who steadies himself against the wall with one arm, pounding into Martín’s firm grip, and comes with a groan. 

For a moment they’re both panting, coming down from their bliss when suddenly Martín comes to his senses and almost panics.

“I’ll have to get back out there.”

He grabs a towel to clean himself off, then looks at Andrés’ arm.

“Sorry about that,” he grins and cleans it off too. 

When he puts on his robe, he clears his throat and says:

“It will probably be best if you're not, uh, out there. I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on my job.”

Andrés laughs softly.

“Sure. I won’t disturb you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Martín’s eyes dart between his eyes and mouth before he turns around to leave. 

After taking a moment to straighten his clothes, he quickly gathers his stuff and disappears from the class before Martín returns.

Even before he’s back in his hotel room, he feels it. Their little adventure in the bathroom was nice, and he somehow feels lighter, finally getting some release after all those hours spent looking at Martín’s body and wondering what it feels like. But it isn’t quite enough. It was over too quickly, he wants more, without fully knowing what exactly more means. He isn’t ready to let Martín go, which is why he is waiting outside when the workshop is over.

Martín looks surprised when he walks out the door and spots Andrés.

“Are you doing anything later?” Andrés asks him.

Martín shrugs. “I don’t think so. Do you want private drawing lessons?” He winks at Andrés, who can’t help but laugh. He is relieved that their previous encounter hasn’t made things awkward between them.

“I don’t think that would be necessary, by now I’m sure I could draw your body from memory. I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat. I haven’t tried the restaurant at my hotel yet, but I’ve heard the food is nice.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just have to go home and change.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Andrés proposes, but Martín shakes his head.

“No. No, you don’t have to. Can we just meet somewhere?”

Andrés frowns, wondering why Martín is so opposed to the idea but agrees to just meet him in the hotel’s lobby.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Andrés spots Martín across the lobby, looking small and uncomfortable in the big room. He is visibly relieved when he sees Andrés, lowering his shoulders and smiling. Andrés wonders if Martín was once again afraid that he wouldn’t show up.

He leads him into the elevator with a hand on his back, and lets it linger for a while after the doors have closed. None of them speaks during the short ride to the restaurant, but they keep stealing glances at each other.

In the restaurant Andrés specifically asks for a table as far away from everyone else as possible, ignoring the waiter’s raised eyebrows, and they are seated by the window with a beautiful view over the city. Andrés hands a menu to Martín. When he opens it, he looks nervously at Andrés.

“Andrés, I really can’t keep asking you to pay for me.” 

He looks genuinely uncomfortable, and Andrés wants to take his hand. Instead he just says:

“You’re not asking me to do anything. I invited you to come here with me, so of course, I’ll pay. Please just pick whatever you want, or I’ll pick something for you.”

Of course he ends up settling for one of the cheapest options, but Andrés doesn’t comment on it. He orders a bottle of wine, the same type as last time because he remembers that Martín likes it.

When their food arrives, Martín eats as if he has never eaten before, and Andrés wonders why it makes him feel so happy. When Martín notices Andrés staring, he puts down his fork.

“Sorry, I, uh—” he swallows the food in his mouth “—this is just amazingly good.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Andrés reassures him. Martíns hand is right there on the table, and without thinking, Andrés places his hand on top of it. They both seem surprised by the gesture. “I’m glad you like it.”

He ends up ordering dessert for Martín too, without asking, of course.

“Well, Martín,” Andrés says when they’re finished eating, “do you want to go out for drinks, or should we explore the minibar in my room?”

“I would like to see your room,” Martín answers, and the look he sends Andrés makes his heart beat slightly faster.

When Martín enters his room, he is clearly taken aback by it all, and Andrés loves seeing the expression on his face when he looks around. 

“Holy fuck, this is awesome,” he grins. 

“Agreed,” Andrés says while he opens the minibar. “Do you like whisky?”

“I think so,” Martín answers, standing by the window and looking down into the hotel’s garden. Andrés pulls out a bottle of Johnny Walker and pours two glasses. Handing one to Martín, he places his now free hand on his lower back, apparently unable to stop touching him.

Martín winces when he takes the first sip of his whisky, making Andrés chuckle.

“Too strong? I can find something else for you.”

“No, this is fine. If you don’t mind me asking—” Martín is still not looking at Andrés “—how do you afford this? I mean, it isn’t exactly low-priced, is it?” He finally turns his attention to Andrés. “You never really told me what you did for a living.”

Andrés purses his lips, thinking for a moment.

“This whole vacation is a gift from my brother, so I didn’t really have to worry about the money.”

“Yeah, but your brother didn’t pay for your suits too, did he? I’m no expert in fancy clothes, but they don’t look cheap to me.”

Andrés raises his eyebrows, a little surprised by the tone of Martín’s voice. 

“You’re right, I paid for my own suits. As for what I do for a living, I managed to make a career of my passion and knowledge of the beautiful world of art. I work as an art dealer.”

That’s not exactly a lie, and he’s not giving away too much information either. Martín nods, for some reason he doesn’t look fully satisfied with the answer, but Andrés caresses his back and distracts him by asking:

“Speaking of work, have you decided if you want to continue as a nude model?”

Martín almost spits out his whisky, laughing.

“No, no. I’ll definitely look for a real job instead. I mean, it was fun trying, but uh— mostly because of you.” He blushes immediately and looks like he already regrets his words.

“Well, I’m glad I made it enjoyable.”

“You did.” Martín is looking at the floor. “I’ve never actually liked my body, but the way you looked at it made me feel, uh, attractive. Shit”— his cheeks are burning red now, and he shakes his head —”I don’t know why I’m saying this, sorry.” He takes a huge gulp of his whisky.

“I looked at you that way because you _are_ attractive,” Andrés simply states and finishes his drink, before pouring them both another one. 

The air between them is almost electric, and Andrés has to move if he isn’t going to touch Martín. He wants to touch him, but he needs a moment to clarify exactly what it is he wants. It’s certain that he never felt this way with any man before, and it’s exciting and a bit scary at the same time. He doesn’t want to start anything with Martín if he isn’t sure he’ll be able to go through with it. 

He decides to put on some music just to think of something else. When he turns his attention back to Martín, he notices how he sways to the rhythm of the music, and how that definitely doesn’t make him any less attractive.

“Do you know how to dance?” he asks him.

Martín shrugs. 

“Yeah, I’ve been taking dance lessons when I was younger, so I guess I do.”

“Show me.”

Martín laughs, but the laughter dies in his throat when he sees the serious expression on Andrés’ face. 

“Please,” Andrés adds and sits down on the bed.

“Alright,” Martín nods, downing his drink and handing the glass to Andrés when he gets up. Andrés notices that the wine and the whisky had an effect on Martín when he stumbles slightly, but it doesn’t show when he starts moving to the music. He doesn’t miss one step, and he moves with such ease that Andrés finds himself mesmerized after a couple of seconds. This is far from the insecure Martín he saw standing in the lobby earlier, seemingly wanting to disappear. This Martín doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. He wants to be _seen_. 

Apparently, Andrés’ stare reassures Martín, because he looks like he’s giving it everything he’s got. His eyes are closed, and he seems lost in the music. 

Andrés is just lost in his moves. Lost in his curves, the way his slim jeans fit perfectly around his ass, how he is almost able to see the muscles in his thighs under the fabric. His slightly unbuttoned shirt reveals his collarbones and the exact spot where Andrés wants to place his lips, to lick— 

He becomes aware that he’s once again very hard, and that Martín has noticed, looking from the bulge in his pants to his eyes, smirking playfully. Well, no reason to try hiding it, then, Andrés thinks and spreads his legs wider. 

Martín is clearly enjoying himself after his discovery, judging from the way his moves have become more sensual, his hands running down his own body. He slowly unbuttons the rest of his shirt, caressing his chest with one hand while looking into Andrés’ eyes.

Andrés is almost overwhelmed by the desire burning inside him when he gets up and slowly takes a few steps towards Martín, who freezes mid-move. Andrés pushes him gently back to the wall and presses his own body to his, the feeling of Martín’s erection against his sending shivers through his body. Their faces are so close that their noses touch, and he feels Martín’s hot, rapid breath on his lips. 

He closes his eyes for a second to control himself but feels Martín’s tongue against his lips. He opens his eyes and catches the playful glimpse in Martín’s eyes, feeling how it removes the last bit of self-control he has. With his hands against the wall on each side of Martín’s head, he crashes his mouth against Martín’s, grinding his erection against him. 

Martín whimpers into his mouth, his hands desperately clawing at Andrés’ hips, trying to hold him, to pull him closer. When he breaks the kiss to gasp for air, Martín starts kissing his neck and presses a hand in between their bodies to caress Andrés’ erection through his pants. It feels too good, and Andrés immediately needs more. He pulls away from Martín and unbuttons his pants, and suddenly he is pushed backwards until he feels the edge of the bed behind him. 

Martín quickly unbuttons Andrés’ pants and pulls both them and his boxers down in one swift motion that makes Andrés raise his eyebrows in wonder. Then Martín makes him sit down on the bed. 

Andrés can’t do anything but look at Martín when he kneels in front of him. None of the women he’s been with has taken the lead like this, and it evokes a completely new feeling inside him. Martín places one hand on each of Andrés’ thighs and sends him a questioning look, asking for permission.

Andrés nods once, and not even a second later he feels Martín’s lips around his cock. He falls back onto his elbows, moaning loudly. Martín barely manages to keep him from thrusting into his mouth by pinning his thighs down. 

After a while, he manages to open his eyes and take in the sight of Martín’s head between his legs, bobbing up and down in an even rhythm. He enjoys Martín’s desperate grasp on his thighs, the way he can’t sit still, and one of his hands disappears from Andrés’ thigh, probably to touch himself.

“Martín,” he manages to croak out, a hand on Martín’s head. He wants to touch him too.

“Mmh?” he answers, letting go of Andrés’ cock.

“Come here.”

Martín crawls onto the bed, and Andrés pulls his shirt off him and pushes him down to the mattress. He doesn’t even touch him, and Martín is already squirming, despair painted on his face. It’s beautiful, and Andrés feels his cock twitch at the sight. 

He takes his time, kissing the collarbones he’s been admiring for the last couple of days, running his tongue over the dark nipples, his hands over the beautiful curves.

“Please,” Martín pants, and Andrés finally pulls his pants and boxers off and wraps his fingers around his erection. Martín whimpers needily.

“What do you want, Martín?”

Martín fights to steady his breath enough to articulate an answer.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Andrés lets out a ragged breath when he hears those words. He nods. He really wants that too.

“Have you, uh— have you been with a man before?” Martín asks. 

“No, I haven’t.”

Martín swallows and nods. 

“Alright, I uh—” He turns around and fetches something from the pocket of his discarded jeans. A condom and a small packet of lube. Andrés smirks. Martín holds the stuff in his hands and looks at Andrés.

“You want this, right? It’s okay, we don’t have to—”

“Very much so,” Andrés answers and grabs the condom, not letting Martín finish his sentence. 

Martín starts preparing himself, and Andrés can’t stop himself from gawking, fascinated by his experienced moves. He rolls on the condom, and when Martín is ready, he positions himself between his legs, adding some lube.

“Just— be gentle, okay?” Martín says, hesitantly. Andrés nods, hovering over Martín and slowly pushing inside. It seems like every muscle in Martín’s body tenses, and Andrés stops immediately, leaning down to kiss his neck. Martín lets out a breath.

“Are you alright?” Andrés asks, looking him in the eyes.

Martín nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just—”

He is interrupted when Andrés starts moving, slowly. They both let out a loud moan, and after a while, Martín seems to fully relax. Andrés is surprised by the tightness of Martín around him and his fingers digging into his hips. He wants Martín to know how fucking good it feels, but he isn’t able to form a coherent sentence, so he just ends up saying:

“Fuck.”

Martín lets out a breathless chuckle, and Andrés leans down and kisses him. The kiss, raw and needy, makes something click in his mind. This isn’t just physical desire, it is something deeper. The way Martín’s skin feels against his, the feeling inside his chest when they kiss. The realization catches him off guard and makes him break the kiss momentarily and still for a moment. Martín’s eyes flutter open and he looks at Andrés with just a hint of insecurity. He looks like he’s about to speak, but stops when Andrés caresses his cheek.

“Martín—” 

He wants to say something, but he’s not sure what. 

“Yeah,” Martín answers, and Andrés wonders if he understands. He resumes the kissing.

Martín starts jerking himself off between their bodies, desperately, and Andrés fucks him harder, their breaths mixing when they pant into each other’s mouths. When he feels Martín squirm underneath him and feels his hot come on his stomach and the clenching around his cock, Andrés isn’t able to hold himself back anymore. He pounds into Martín a couple of times and comes with a loud groan, barely managing not to collapse on top of him.

All dizzy, he lies down next to Martín. After catching his breath he turns his head to look at Martín, who is still panting, and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. His cheeks are blushing and his skin sweaty, glistening in the glow from the night lamp. 

“I’m sorry if I was a little too rough,” Andrés says with a frown.

A small, tired smile forms on Martín’s lips. Without opening his eyes, he answers:

“Don’t worry, it was really good.” 

Andrés keeps looking at him.

“You have done it before, right?”

Martín swallows.

“Yeah, it’s just— been a while.”

He opens his eyes to look at Andrés. 

“Did you like it? I mean, it being your first time and all.”

Andrés sends him a huge grin. 

“I think I could get used to it.”

And he really could. He leans over and kisses him quickly on the lips before he gets a towel. Martín looks completely exhausted, so he cleans him off, too, rewarded with a lazy smile. When he gets back from the bathroom, Martín is already asleep, and Andrés feels weirdly happy to know that he isn’t going home for the night. 

He lies down next to him and pulls the blanket over them both. The small squeeze by Martín’s hand, when he takes it, makes a warmth spread inside him, both scaring and comforting him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you. I thought I was going to die.”
> 
> “You didn’t,” Andrés says, and when he reaches to caress Martín’s cheek, he shrinks away from his touch. Only then does Andrés notice the blood soaking his sleeve. Martín’s eyes get wider as he seems to remember what happened, and his hands let go of Andrés’ shirt.
> 
> “What did you do to him?” Martín says in a small voice.
> 
> “I did it to save you,” Andrés tries, but Martín doesn’t seem to listen.
> 
> “You had a knife. Is he—” 
> 
> “He’ll be alright, don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter has a little more action than the previous 3 chapters (and I don't only mean in bed). Martín is going to learn something about Andrés - and Andrés is going to give his very first blowjob. Everything is fine... or is it?
> 
> ENJOY.

When Andrés wakes up, Martín is still sound asleep next to him. He wants to stay in bed, to look at the man forever, but he has to go to the bathroom, so he gets up, careful not to wake him. He decides to order their breakfast to the room instead of going to the restaurant because he knows Martín will be more comfortable here. And partly because he might want to do stuff to him that will definitely not be appropriate in a restaurant. 

He goes back to bed, lying next to Martín to admire his face. He never realized the face of a man could be that beautiful, but it appears he just never looked at the right face before. He runs his fingers through the hair, messy from the previous night’s activities. When he places a soft kiss on the forehead, Martín’s eyes flutter open. There’s a moment of confusion in them until he remembers where he is, probably what he has done, too, and smiles.

“Did you sleep well?” Andrés asks him.

“Yeah, this bed is really comfortable.”

Martín yawns and reaches for Andrés, his fingers caressing his arm. Andrés notices the insecure flicker in his eyes just before he leans down to kiss him, and suddenly Martín doesn’t seem insecure at all. He pulls Andrés close, and he feels Martín’s already half-hard cock against his thigh. They kiss for a while before Andrés pulls away.

“It’s not that I don’t want this, but our breakfast will be here any minute.”

Martín’s smile is wide and his cheeks are blushing, and Andrés can’t believe he just rejected _that_. 

“I guess I’ll have to wait, then.”

They eat their breakfast in bed, and Martín makes the mistake of asking Andrés about his favorite artists. He doesn’t seem bothered by the speech, though, and listens patiently.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Andrés says after he’s finished eating. He gets up and walks to the bathroom, feeling Martín’s eyes on his naked body. With the amount of staring he half expects him to follow, but he doesn’t, so when Andrés is done filling the bathtub, he returns to the bedroom.

Martín sits quietly on the bed, still sipping his coffee, and looks at Andrés as soon as he walks through the door. Andrés smirks.

“Do I really have to ask you to join me?”

Martín smiles behind his cup before he puts it aside. 

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

Andrés just rolls his eyes, and Martín gets up and follows him. 

The tub is big enough for the two of them, but somehow Martín still ends up on top of Andrés, kissing him fervently. This is a completely new way of exploring Martín’s body, and he likes the feeling of the wet skin against his own. 

Martín moves a little to the side to make room for his hands on Andrés’ body. He starts stroking Andrés’ cock while kissing his neck, and Andrés leans his head back, giving in to the pleasure. 

Suddenly Martín’s hand is no longer on his cock, but caressing his balls, and it’s oddly pleasant, too. Martín moans in his ear as if he’s the one being caressed, and Andrés feels him rubbing his erection against his thigh.

When Martín’s finger moves from his balls and further back, Andrés grabs his arm out of reflex. He really likes Martín, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready for _that_. Martín keeps his hand in place, but his eyes are wide when they meet Andrés’.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna— you know. Just— just relax,” Martín says, and starts massaging a spot behind Andrés’ balls. Andrés lets go of his arm and arches his back from the sudden jolt of pleasure through his body, making the water splash over the edge of the tub. Martín almost laughs in his ear.

“I figured you were gonna like it.”

“Holy fuck—” Andrés says but is interrupted when Martín continues the massage. He has a hard time trying to control his body, trying to get used to the feeling, to the overwhelming pleasure. He wants a lot of things right now, but he also just wants to feel this. 

When Martín’s movements against his thigh get more desperate, he makes a quick decision.

“Martín, come on.”

It takes a moment for Martín to actually understand what he’s saying, but he obediently follows Andrés out of the tub, and after drying themselves more or less effectively, Andrés pushes Martín down on the bed. 

He straddles him and gazes down at his body. Martín’s hands already grab the sheets desperately, his eyes pleading. Andrés sends him a crooked smile and starts kissing down his neck, chest and stomach.

“Andrés I swear to God,” Martín pants, squirming under his touch.

His kisses continue down along one of Martín’s hip bones, to the top of his thigh. He smiles at his desperation and pins his hips to the mattress before licking his tongue along his cock, making sure to look up at Martín while doing it. Martín’s whole body shivers, and he lets out a desperate whine. 

Andrés slowly wraps his lips around the head of the cock, and he has to force Martín’s hips down to keep him still. It takes him a moment to get used to the feeling of a throbbing cock in his mouth, but he doesn’t exactly hate it. Most of all he marvels at the reactions and sounds from Martín when he swirls his tongue around the head and takes it deeper into his mouth. He starts moving his head a little faster when suddenly Martín’s hand grabs his hair. He stops, but doesn’t remove his mouth.

“Mmh?” he says around Martín’s cock.

“Ah— Andrés, fuck. I, uh— This is kind of embarrassing, but I’m already really—”

Andrés senses where this is going, so he flicks his tongue tauntingly.

“—close,” Martín pants, his hand still in Andrés hair, but his grasp not as firm as before.

Andrés plays with him a little before setting a more steady rhythm, and it doesn’t take long before Martín shouts his name and comes in his mouth.

When Andrés lies down next to him, Martín says:

“Don’t tell me you never tried that before.” 

Andrés shrugs.

“I haven’t.”

“Fuck you.”

Martín laughs and pulls Andrés down for a kiss, surely tasting himself on Andrés’ tongue. 

“Guess it’s my turn to take care of you,” he says, grabbing Andrés’ painfully hard cock.

After a heavenly blowjob, they end up cuddling in bed, until Martín has to leave to go out with his friends.

Andrés spends the day actually exploring the city for once, visiting a few museums, but all he is able to think about is how much he wishes Martín was there with him. He eats his dinner at a restaurant alone before going back to the hotel, where he spends the evening painting. He is so caught up in it that he doesn’t even notice how much time has passed, when his phone rings around midnight.

“Yes?” he answers absentmindedly, still painting with one hand.

“Andrés! I need your help.”

Martín is panting, and his voice sounds so scared that Andrés drops his brush and immediately stands up.

“Where are you?”

“Shit! Andrés I swear they’re going to kill me.”

It sounds like Martín is running, and Andrés’ heart starts beating faster, while he fights to remain calm.

“Martín, calm down. Where are you?”

“I, uh, I’m just around the corner from your hotel—“ he lowers his voice “—the alley behind the bookstore. Please.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Andrés puts on his shoes, puts his knife in his pocket, and decides not to wait for the elevator. He sprints down the stairs and outside, to the alley Martín was talking about, and he hears Martín screaming, the sound sending chills through his body.

When he finally arrives, after what feels like forever, he spots three men standing in the alley, towering over Martín who is on the ground. He isn’t able to see the state Martín’s in, but one of the men is kicking him, and no sound is coming from him anymore. He has to use all of his willpower not to barge in and run to Martín, risking to make the situation even worse.

Instead, he walks closer without any of the men noticing him, and grabs the collar of the nearest man to yank him backward and punch him in the face. He stumbles backwards and lands on the ground, and luckily the two others turn their attention to Andrés, away from Martín.

Andrés doesn’t really recall most of what happens next, the well-known feeling of rage taking over his body. He can’t ignore the thrill it gives him when one of the men attacks him, and he knows he should be worried - after all, they’re three against one. But he only laughs when he pulls out his knife and stabs the man about to jump him. He isn’t sure where or how many times, but he doesn’t kill him, because they all run away eventually. 

When his ears stop ringing, he remembers why he is there and hurries to Martín who is still on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest. He has blood on his face, and he looks so scared that something inside Andrés’ chest actually hurts.

“Martín, are you alright?”

Martín just nods, staring absentmindedly in front of him, and Andrés sits down next to him, wrapping his arms around him. He is way too cold, and he smells heavily of alcohol. Finally, Martín seems to focus. His arms wrap around Andrés, too, his hands grasping desperately at his shirt. His breathing is rapid and uneven, and he tries to say something, but Andrés can’t understand the words.

“Hey, hey. You’re safe now. Just relax,” he whispers in Martín’s ear and pulls him closer, caressing his back. They stay like that until Martín relaxes, until he pulls slightly away from Andrés to look at him.

“Thank you. I thought I was going to die.”

“You didn’t,” Andrés says, and when he reaches to caress Martín’s cheek, he shrinks away from his touch. Only then does Andrés notice the blood soaking his sleeve. Martín’s eyes get wider as he seems to remember what happened, and his hands let go of Andrés’ shirt.

“What did you do to him?” Martín says in a small voice.

“I did it to save you,” Andrés tries, but Martín doesn’t seem to listen.

“You had a knife. Is he—” 

“He’ll be alright, don’t worry.”

What Andrés really wants to say is that he should have killed him, that all three of them deserved to bleed to death for even touching Martín, but he doesn’t. The way Martín looks at him now, the scared, uncertain look in his eyes, hurts too much, and he doesn’t want to make it worse. 

“It’s not the first time you did this.”

Martín isn’t really asking.

Andrés closes his eyes for a second and exhales. He knows where this is going, and he has to stop it.

“No, it isn’t. Martín, we have to get you out of here. Are you able to walk?”

He tries to ignore the wary look right before Martín accepts his outstretched hand. Turns out he can’t really walk, so Andrés chooses the back entrance to the hotel, not to look too suspicious. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Martín slurs when Andrés drags him into his room.

When Andrés places him on the bed and doesn’t react to his words, Martín continues.

“Look, Andrés” — he takes one of Andrés’ hands in his and looks him straight in the eyes — “I’m glad that you helped me out, really. Thank you. But please don’t feel obligated to take care of me. I might be an idiot, but I’m used to taking care of myself.”

His eyes are slightly unfocused, and Andrés can smell the alcohol on his breath. He takes his hand away.

“I’m not taking care of you because I feel obligated to,” he says in an annoyed voice, pulling Martín’s shirt over his head without hurting him too much. His breath catches in his throat when he sees Martín’s beautiful chest covered in bruises. He clenches his jaw and regrets once again that he didn’t kill those men.

“What happened, Martín? Why did they do this?”

Martín’s eyes escape his. 

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to fucking tell me what happened.”

Martín sighs.

“Because I’m fucking gay, that’s why!” he spits out, and immediately seems to regret his outburst. “I’m sorry. This is exactly why this—” he gestures with a finger between the two of them “—doesn’t make sense. You shouldn’t be involved in stuff like this. I can’t figure out why you put up with me. Look at you, fucking look at you! Everyone can see that I’m not your type. You’re absolutely flawless, and I’m— I’m literally nothing. Please don’t pretend to care about me, if—”

Andrés finally silences Martín with a finger on his lips. 

“Martín, will you shut up? I may not know exactly what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it, but I’m sure as hell not pretending anything. Please just let me help you, you’re really hurt.”

Martín exhales through his nose and nods before apologizing once more. Andrés softly caresses his cheek.

“I care about you, alright?”

And he really does. When he says the words out loud, he feels the truth behind them. He cares about him, as a person, not just as somebody he wants to fuck. He wants to get to know him, to spend time with him. He felt tonight that he is willing to do everything to protect him. 

He helps him get rid of his jeans, and Martín lies down on the bed. Andrés lies down next to him and looks at his face. 

“This is gonna hurt tomorrow,” he says, running a finger over his bleeding eyebrow. Martín turns to him. 

“Why were you carrying a knife?”

Andrés rolls his eyes.

“You should be thankful I did,” he answers in a tired voice.

“Yeah, of course, but— You admitted it yourself, that this wasn’t the first time you did something like that. What exactly did you mean?”

Andrés sends him a warning look.

“Now is not the time for discussing that.”

Martín looks like he wants to keep digging, but he forces his mouth shut. Thankfully. Andrés gets him some painkillers which he accepts without further comments. 

“You should get some sleep,” he tells Martín, getting under the blanket with him. He doesn’t like the feeling of distance that suddenly appeared between them. He’s well aware that Martín is catching on to something, the man isn’t exactly stupid, but Andrés just isn’t ready to reveal this much about himself. Maybe he’s even afraid that telling Martín about his, well, hobbies, is going to ruin whatever they have before it actually becomes something. 

In an attempt to break the distance between them he caresses Martín’s hair. After a moment, Martín seems to give in and cuddles up next to him, his head next to Andrés’ ear. 

“Thank you,” he says and Andrés takes his hand.

He’s silent for a while, and Andrés thinks he has fallen asleep when suddenly he speaks.

“Andrés.” His voice sounds sleepy, almost drifting off. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Then there’s just a peaceful breathing in his ear and a warm feeling in his chest.

A few hours later the warm feeling is replaced by tired groans as he has to help Martín to the bathroom when he has to puke. He carries him back to the bed, trying to tune out all of his “I’m sorry” and “just leave me to die.” Then he feeds him some more painkillers.

The next morning Andrés wakes before Martín, who is sprawled out on the bed, his chest covered in bruises. As much as it pains him to look at, there’s something strangely appealing by the marks on his skin and the way they differ in color. He is so captured by the sight that he ends up painting him, spending a lot of time getting the shade of the bruises right. 

When he’s almost finished, Martín opens his eyes and groans when he turns to his side to look at Andrés.

“Are you seriously painting me?” Martín asks, but he can’t hide a giggle.

“Of course. It would be a shame not to. How are you feeling?”

Andrés sits on the bed next to Martín and hesitantly touches his cheek, covered by a bruise. 

“Like shit.”

He lays back with a groan.

“I’m sorry about last night, I don’t know if I said some shit to you, I was pretty drunk.” 

The blush on his cheeks shows Andrés that he remembers exactly what he said.

“You didn’t,” Andrés tells him and leans down to kiss him gently. Martín pulls him closer, but Andrés moves away when he hears the pained sounds coming from Martín every time he moves.

“I’ll get you some more painkillers, and then I’ll go out and find some breakfast.”

He finds a nice little bakery just a few blocks from the hotel, and returns as quickly as possible, not wanting Martín to be alone for too long.

When he enters his room, Martín is half-sitting in the bed, looking at the television.

“I see you found a way to entertain yourself,” Andrés says, just before he notices the expression on Martín’s face. His wide eyes and the paleness of his skin tells Andrés that something is very wrong. Martín looks from the television to Andrés, seemingly speechless. 

When Andrés turns to look at the screen, he sees a drawing that looks surprisingly like him.

Crap. His whole body freezes, and he just stands there, listening to the words from the Spanish TV channel Martín stumbled upon. 

“The police received an anonymous tip tying this man to the robbery at Museo de la Libreria National in Madrid 6 months ago, where an original 1720 1st edition of Piranessi's "Le Carceri" was stolen.”

This doesn’t make sense. Andrés’ thoughts immediately start racing. Nobody had anything on them for 6 months. Why now? Who talked to the police? His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the next words.

“The person who informed the police didn’t tell what their connection was to the suspect but mentioned that the man on the facial composite might also be related to human trafficking and numerous cases of rape…”

The ringing in his ears tunes out the sound from the news. He knows exactly who tipped off the police.

“Goddamn bitch,” he whispers in a shaky, angry voice.

“That’s… you.”

Martín’s voice sounds so far away, and Andrés isn’t able to focus on it. He pinches his temples with his fingers and tries to compose his thoughts. Taking a few deep breaths he opens his eyes and looks at Martín, who gets out of the bed and almost loses his balance, wincing from the pain. Andrés takes one step towards him, but Martín holds up a hand.

“Don’t.”

Andrés stops.

“You didn’t consider telling me that you were a fucking criminal?”

Martín’s voice is shaky, and the pain is audible in every word he says. 

“It all makes so much more sense now.” Martín laughs, and it’s almost manic. “Why you would carry a knife and stab people who got in your way.”

“Got in my way? I did it to save your fucking life!”

“So what, so you could trade me as a sex slave later?” Martín shouts, his voice on the verge of breaking. 

Red flashes before Andrés’ eyes.

“I have never done any of that! Are you really stupid enough to believe everything you hear?”

Andrés’ voice is too loud, he knows, but he doesn’t care anymore. Martín’s eyes are wide, filled with tears and he looks so vulnerable, so deeply hurt. But Andrés can’t bring himself to care. The fact that Martín would believe that about him, that his ex-wife would spread lies about him, fills him with white-hot anger. 

Martín keeps shaking his head, backing up against the wall, away from Andrés.

“I don’t fucking know what to believe.” 

“Do you really think I would sell people? Do I look like a child molester? What the fuck do you think I am?”

Andrés’ fists are clenched at his sides. It’s not that he wants to punch Martín, but he definitely wants to punch _something_. 

“I saw you on that fucking sketch!” Martín shouts back at him and starts picking up his clothes and putting them on. “Why would the police have a drawing of you if you’re completely innocent?”

“I never said I was innocent, I just said—”

“Oh, so now you’re not innocent! Fucking great. I was stupid enough to think that I finally met a decent man. How come you never mentioned anything to me?”

“Because you’re not my fucking wife, Martín! I don’t _have_ to tell you anything!”

His words linger in the air for a moment while Martín looks at him in disbelief.

“You know what, fuck you!” he spits out and barges past Andrés and out the door. When the door slams behind him, Andrés is left with an empty feeling inside. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you here?”
> 
> Andrés walks slowly to the other side of the room and sits down on Martín’s bed. Martín doesn’t move from where he stands.
> 
> “I think I owe you an explanation.”
> 
> “What makes you think I want your explanation?”
> 
> Andrés sighs.
> 
> “You told me you were falling in love with me.”
> 
> The blush on Martín’s cheeks is immediate, but so is his answer.
> 
> “Yeah, that was before I saw your face on the news.”

It doesn’t take Andrés long to find Martín’s address. After all, he has a lot of information pointing him in the right direction, and it isn’t hard to put it all together. 

He spends some time considering if he should just stay away. Martín did seem pretty mad, and though Andrés didn’t do anything wrong, he can’t help but feel bad that he hurt him. He hasn’t answered any of Andrés’ calls since yesterday, which should be an indication, but Andrés has to at least offer him an explanation. When they last talked, Andrés wasn’t thinking clearly, and he didn’t get to say everything that needs to be said. It’s selfish, he knows, but he needs Martín to at least know the truth before making any decisions. 

The thing is, Andrés really wants to see Martín again. He needs to. He has to leave the place soon if he doesn’t want to get caught, but he doesn’t want to leave without Martín. He still hasn’t figured out exactly why, on the contrary, he has tried not to think too much about it. He has been in love several times, but it didn’t feel like this. The times he has been in love he was filled with an all-consuming passion, but with Martín, it’s different. The physical attraction can’t be denied, that’s for sure, but he knows it runs deeper than that. 

And then there’s the reason he tries not to think too much about. The risk that Martín would turn him in. It’s not that he doesn’t trust him, but he knows what feelings can do to people, how they can make people act irrationally. Martín seems to be one of the people who feel a lot. If Andrés’ actions hurt him enough, then maybe he wouldn’t think, and— no, Martín wouldn’t do that. But Andrés has to make sure. 

So he decides to pay him a visit. 

Walking through the neighborhood where Martín lives, Andrés suddenly understands how Martín felt when he visited his hotel. Out of place. Andrés’ suit surely makes him stand out - not that he could have done anything about it, because he didn’t bring other clothes than suits. Maybe he should worry more about being mugged, but the knife in his pocket makes him feel safe.

Just around the corner from where Martín is supposed to live he stops in his tracks when he notices a man in an expensive suit get out of a shiny, expensive car. The man looks around him nervously before disappearing around the corner and into the same building Andrés is about to enter. He wonders what that man’s doing in this shady neighborhood until he realizes that he, too, a man in an expensive suit, is about to enter the building. There is a natural explanation for everything.

When Martín opens the door, he’s dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt, and his hair is messy. Andrés thinks back to the day where he first saw him when he had clearly just stumbled out of his bed and run all the way to the art class, and he can’t help but smile.

Martín doesn’t smile, he looks a little panicked, and his first reaction is to run a hand through his hair.

“Andrés, what are— how do you know where I live?”

“Can I come in?”

Martín hasn’t exactly opened the door for him, in fact, he closed it a little more after seeing who it was. He looks nervously inside his apartment, to Andrés again, and shrugs.

“Sure.”

He actually opens the door this time, and Andrés steps inside.

Martín looks around the small place and begins putting some stuff away in a desperate attempt to quickly tidy the room. Andrés wants to calm him down, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but judging from his reaction the last time they saw each other, he probably shouldn’t. So he just wanders around in the room. There’s a lot of stuff in this tiny place, but it doesn’t look messy. The walls are empty save from a few diplomas from the university, some of them with Martín’s name on them, some of them older looking with a different name. 

“You sure have a lot of books,” he says, looking at the shelves stacked with all kinds of books. Newer looking books about engineering, and some ancient-looking books too, about stuff he doesn’t even know what is. The desk in front of the window is covered in books, too, and open notebooks with handwritten notes. He takes one of the books from the shelf and flickers through it, failing to make sense of the subject. 

Andrés’ interest in the books makes Martín relax a little.

“Yeah, I like reading. Most of them are from when I studied, though. The one you’re holding is a gift from my dad.”

He walks to Andrés and gently takes the book from him, flips to the front page where there’s a hand-written note from his father.

_“My dear Martín,_  
You are the most brilliant boy in the world. Always remember that.  
Love, Dad.” 

Andrés notices the flicker of emotion in Martín’s eyes before he closes the book, narrows his eyes a bit, and asks:

“Why are you here?”

Andrés walks slowly to the other side of the room and sits down on Martín’s bed. Martín doesn’t move from where he stands.

“I think I owe you an explanation.”

“What makes you think I want your explanation?”

Andrés sighs.

“You told me you were falling in love with me.”

The blush on Martín’s cheeks is immediate, but so is his answer.

“Yeah, that was before I saw your face on the news.”

There is no shouting this time, he speaks in a normal voice, but the hurt is still there.

“I need to explain myself, and if that makes me selfish, then so be it. But will you please just listen to me?”

When Martín doesn’t answer, he continues.

“Yes, I am a criminal. I did steal the painting they mentioned on the TV. I did it together with my ex-wife, and I’m pretty sure she’s the one who tipped off the police.” 

Martín blinks a couple of times and interrupts.

“Wait. You stole the— how much did they say it was worth?”

“Martín, that’s not important—”

“It is important to me. You’re walking around here in your fancy suits, making people think you earned your money when the truth is that you’re just a thief.”

“I don’t care how people think I earned my money, but I did earn them, just not by working a boring 9 to 5 job. That’s really not what I want to discuss right now. Martín, I stole the painting, but I didn’t do any of the other stuff they accused me of. I might be a criminal, but I have a moral compass.”

He can see the rage bubbling directly beneath the surface when Martín asks in a calm voice:

“Why would she lie to the police?”

“Let’s just say that things didn’t end on a good note between us.”

“How?” Martín insists, and Andrés presses his fingers to his temples, really not wanting to go into this subject. But Martín deserves a little bit of the truth for once.

“She really wanted kids, and I told her from the start that I didn’t. I guess she never really accepted it, and when I found out that she wasn’t taking her birth control pills, I was pissed. We had a fight, I might have said some things that weren’t fair, stuff was smashed against the wall, and well— I guess she hates me more than I thought she would.”

Martín’s features soften a little, but he doesn’t speak, and Andrés has to ask.

“I’m sorry to ask, Martín, but I have to know. Did you tell anyone?”

Martín looks shocked, almost offended.

“No! No, I would never do that.”

“You were pretty angry yesterday—”

“I am still pretty angry, but I didn’t turn you in.” 

Martín slowly walks towards him and sits down next to him. He looks confused, biting the inside of his cheek, clearly looking for the right words. Andrés feels like he can see right through him, see the turmoil going on inside of him. He isn’t ready to forgive Andrés, but his reaction to Andrés’ question about turning him in tells that in some way, he still cares. 

After a few minutes of silence, Martín speaks.

“I’m relieved that you’re not involved in those nasty things. But that being said, it’s not so much the fact that you’re a criminal, that hurt me. It’s that you didn’t tell me anything.”

When Andrés opens his mouth to say something, Martín holds up a hand and continues.

“I know you don’t have to tell me anything, I know we just met each other. I just— I tend to be naive and trust people too easily, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone took advantage of that. That’s why I reacted as I did. Let’s just say that the men I’ve met haven’t exactly been good for me, and I thought that I finally found someone who was. To have that thought shattered, not even by your words, but by some lady in the news—” 

He trails off and starts biting his nail nervously. Andrés places a hand on his knee.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even mean for you to find out yet.”

“Yet?” Martín looks at him.

“I mean, it would have come up eventually.”

Eventually. His choice of words makes Andrés realize that he planned for a future including Martín, and the thought seems nice. Martín can’t hide a small smile either.

“You did other crimes too, right?”

“I did.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and Martín just nods, placing his hand on Andrés’.

“It’s not like I never stole anything. But at least I did it because I had to, because I didn’t have the money to buy it.”

Andrés cocks his eyebrow.

“I’m only stealing from the people who've already got enough. People who will never miss the stuff anyway. I’m not a monster.”

Martín chuckles.

“You don’t have to explain your moral compass to me, Andrés. I’m just saying that I did some shoplifting, but the stuff you did is different. The stuff you do. I guess you don’t plan to stop.”

Andrés turns to him but doesn’t comment on it, which seems to be enough of an answer. 

“It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

“I know. Martín, I’ll have to leave soon. They don’t have my name, but it’s just a matter of time before they find it, and I’ll need to go somewhere—” 

They both startle at the loud noise of something hitting the wall in the apartment next door. 

“What the fuck was that?”

An angry voice is shouting in the other apartment, followed by some screaming.

Martín gets up and starts pacing the room nervously. 

“What’s going on, Martín?”

“I don’t know, I mean—” he stops when the screaming continues “—sometimes I hear noise from her apartment, but it’s never been like this. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Let’s go have a look,” Andrés suggests and is already on his way to the door when Martín grabs his arm.

“I don’t know, Andrés. Maybe we shouldn’t interfere. Maria sometimes has some, uh, shady visitors.”

When the next scream cuts through the air, Martín lets go of him and puts on his shoes. 

Andrés knocks on the door a couple of times, but the screams don’t stop, and no one answers. He tries to open it, but of course, it’s locked. 

“Maybe I should call the landlord, and he could open the door for us.”

“Martín, you’re adorable, but how long would it take for the landlord to arrive? I’m sorry, but Maria is clearly in trouble.”

He doesn’t wait for Martín’s answer before he kicks the door in. Martín is about to complain when they see the man in the expensive suit standing inside, his pants down his knees, and an almost naked woman laying on the floor. 

“This isn’t what it looks like,” the man tells them, putting his pants back on. 

“Oh, it isn’t?” Andrés says. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like. Some rich bastard thinking he can just toy with people because he’s got money.” 

He starts rolling up his sleeves, welcoming the rage building inside him.

“I swear I didn’t touch her.”

The marks on Maria’s body tells another story. Andrés huffs and takes one step forward when suddenly Martín’s fingers curl around his arm. Not hard, but enough to make him stop and turn around.

“Trust me, he deserves this,” Andrés growls. Martín hesitates for a while but ends up letting go of Andrés’ arm. Then he proceeds to take care of Maria. 

“Please don’t—” the man says before being interrupted by a punch in the face. The crunch under Andrés’ knuckles is satisfying, and when the man stumbles backward Andrés punches him again.

“You’re not gonna fight back, huh?” Andrés grins.

The man tries to reach for Andrés, who grabs his arm and twists it behind his back, making him scream out in pain. Over the man’s shoulder, Andrés sees Martín coming out from what he can only assume is the bedroom, where he has left Maria. With a furious gaze focused on the man in Andrés’ arms, he walks closer, breathing heavily through his nose. 

“What did you do to her?” Martín snarls at him.

The man only mumbles an incoherent answer. Andrés meets Martín’s eyes for a moment, and he grabs the man’s other arm too, keeping him in place. He gives Martín a barely visible nod, and Martín throws his first punch. It’s sloppy and inexperienced, but Andrés recognizes the fire in Martín’s eyes. The man wriggles in Andrés’ arms, when Martín punches him again and again, more power behind every blow. 

Suddenly the man throws his head back, hitting Andrés’ face and causing him to let go of his arms and take a few steps back. He tastes the blood immediately. Before he even knows what happened, Martín is straddling the man on the floor, beating him up. When the man is barely conscious, Andrés lays his hand on Martín’s shoulder.

“I think he learned his lesson.” 

Martín turns his head, and the look he sends Andrés is filled with fervor. His jaw is clenched, he is breathing rapidly, and Andrés has never wanted him more. He feels the rush of lust go through his body and settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but this isn’t the time. 

“We should get out of here,” he tells Martín, who hasn’t moved an inch.

Martín nods absentmindedly and slowly gets up. Andrés wants so badly to touch him, but he knows that if he did, there would be no going back. He clears his throat to gather his thoughts and turns to the man. 

“Take his jacket and follow me,” he tells Martín, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him outside the building. 

“Is that his car?” Martín asks, pointing at the car Andrés recognizes from earlier. He nods. 

“We should take it,” Martín adds in an excited tone. “That pig deserves to walk home.” 

Andrés feels almost proud when Martín fetches the keys and wallet from the man’s jacket. He catches the keys and goes to unlock the car. When he turns around, Martín is directly in front of him, his face only inches away. 

“Andrés,” he just whispers. 

Andrés lets his eyes wander down Martín’s body, and notices an erection matching his own. He swallows hard and places his hand on Martín’s chest, both to keep the distance, but at the same time because he really needs to feel him. Martín’s heart is hammering, and he has a puzzled look on his face like he doesn’t quite understand his own feelings. 

“I know,” Andrés breathes. “It’s the adrenaline. Let’s get in the car.”

Martín nods and does what he’s told.

Andrés starts the car, driving way too fast. His free hand is on Martín’s thigh, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, still needing to touch him. Martín shifts under his touch, his breathing fast, when he places Andrés’ hand between his legs. Andrés grabs his erection through his pants, harder than he probably should, and Martín moans so loudly, so desperately, that Andrés almost loses control.

“I need you,” Martín whines, and his hand caresses Andrés’ thigh, barely grazing his erection. There’s a burning sensation in his abdomen, his body desperate for relief.

“Fuck, Martín,” he pants, pulling over and hitting the brakes. They haven’t even left the city, but Andrés doesn’t care. He looks out the window, the street is empty. Perfect.

“Get out,” he tells Martín.

Andrés pins him against the car door, kissing him desperately as if it depended on his life. Martín is quick to unzip Andrés’ pants.

“Follow me,” he orders, taking Martín’s hand and almost dragging him behind a building. Martín’s touches are desperate and uncoordinated, so Andrés takes control, opens Martín’s pants, and pulls them down.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he almost warns Martín, and he gets a needy whimper in return. He turns Martín around in one swift, rough motion, pulls his boxers down, and takes a second to admire the beautiful sight: Martín leaning against the brick wall with both hands, head bowed forward and his naked ass waiting for Andrés. Apparently, the brief moment of waiting is too much for Martín, who lets out a needy “please”, and the despair in his voice makes Andrés’ cock twitch. 

Andrés pulls down his own boxers and leans against Martín, slicking his cock with his spit. It isn’t enough, but he doesn’t care. His whole body is burning with desire as he enters Martín. 

Martín lets out a strangled sound of pain and pleasure, and Andrés places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently while trying to control himself. His thumb caresses Martín, who seems to relax a bit. 

“Just fuck me, Andrés, please, I’ll be alright.”

Andrés doesn’t hesitate before he buries himself completely. The roughness of it all is just what he needs, probably what Martín needs, too. They’re both chasing their release, moaning way too loudly. Andrés is pounding violently into Martín, who has trouble keeping his hands in place against the wall. When Andrés grabs his cock and strokes it in the rhythm of his thrusts, Martín comes with something akin to a sob, and Andrés has to pin him to the wall and support his weight, before he, too, comes inside of him. 

He manages to hold Martín upright until he regains some control of his body. When he turns around, he grins at Andrés.

“Shit. That was, uh— intense?”

Andrés buttons his pants and cups Martín’s face with his hands. 

“I know.”

They kiss lazily for a while before they begin walking back, hand in hand, leaving the car behind. It’s a long walk, but it helps both of their bodies to calm down after what happened.

When they get to Andrés’ hotel, Martín stops in front of the entrance. He looks pale and exactly as exhausted as Andrés feels. The adrenaline has worn off. 

“I’m really tired. Maybe I should just go home,” Martín suggests, not looking like he is able to walk anywhere. 

“I understand if you want to, and I even understand if you don’t want to see me ever again. But I don’t think you should be alone right now, after what happened. Come with me and just relax?”

Martín looks like he’s somewhere far away in his head, but he nods and follows Andrés to his room, where Andrés maneuvers him down on the bed and takes off his shoes. He lies down next to him, and Martín immediately attaches himself to Andrés and falls asleep. Andrés isn’t able to keep his eyes open either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who the fuck visits him in a hotel in the middle of the night? This doesn’t seem right, especially not with the knowledge that the police are looking for him. The knocking continues, and he feels himself starting to panic when he hears a voice outside the door.
> 
> “Andrés.”
> 
> It’s Martín’s voice. He sighs in relief and opens the door, but the relief disappears when sheer panic is painted all over Martín’s face and body. Martín pushes inside and closes the door behind him, before he starts to speak, stumbling over the words.
> 
> “Andrés, you have to leave. I’m sorry if I woke you up, shit you were probably sleeping, I’m sorry. I didn’t dare to call you because I didn’t know if they were listening to my calls—”
> 
> “Martín, breathe. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Martín jolts awake in Andrés’ arms, smashing his head to Andrés’ jaw, making him hiss from the pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Martín says, wincing from pain, too, and with a hand on his head. There is a disoriented look in his wide eyes.

“Were you dreaming?” Andrés asks, rubbing his jaw.

“Yeah.”

Martín lays down on his back, staring up into the ceiling. The afternoon sun is shining through the curtains, telling Andrés that they only slept for about an hour. 

“How are you feeling?”

Martín doesn’t answer. He brings one hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers, looking at the bruised knuckles. Andrés hesitantly takes the hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. Martín sighs and closes his eyes when he removes his hand from Andrés’.

“I didn’t recognize myself when I was beating up that man. I’ve never felt like that before.”

Andrés recognizes the scared edge to his voice. 

“But you did it to—”

“Yeah I know, to save her. But I didn’t even think, it was like I was acting on pure instinct like I was some kind of animal. I mean, I’ve been in a fight before, but it never felt like that.”

Finally, he looks at Andrés.

“I didn’t like it, and at the same time—” his eyes flicker, as if he fights to maintain eye contact “—I really liked it. Shit, what’s wrong with me?”

He rubs his eyes, forcing out a nervous laugh, but Andrés notices the quiver of his lip. He looks like he’s pleading for Andrés to say something.

“You did the right thing, Martín. You gave that bastard what he deserved, and you did really well. I’m proud of you.”

Martín swallows hard and reaches for Andrés’ hand. Andrés squeezes it in a way he hopes is reassuring. He searches Martín’s eyes before he leans down to kiss him. Martín responds to the kiss, but he doesn’t deepen it, he doesn’t do anything else.

Andrés knows even before Martín gently pushes him away.

He struggles to meet Andrés’ eyes when he says:

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” He sits up. Andrés does the same. “I need to— shit, I don’t even know what I need. I need some time to think. Andrés, I really like you, but this—” he shakes his head, frustrated “—I don’t know. Fuck. I know you don’t have time—” 

He stops his rambling when Andrés places his hands on his shoulders.

“Hey. Don’t worry, I know this is a lot. Just take your time. I don’t have to leave right now.” At least he hopes that he’s right about that. “If you feel okay, go home, and let’s talk tomorrow?”

Martín nods, looking anywhere but at Andrés when he gets up from the bed.

“Call me if you need me, alright?” Andrés says right before Martín disappears out the door.

“Yeah.”

He tries hard not to think about the possibility that Martín might never return.

Andrés must have fallen asleep once again, because when he is woken up by a loud knock on the door, the sun is gone, and the room around him is completely dark. His watch shows him that it’s 1 in the middle of the night. 

Who the fuck visits him in a hotel in the middle of the night? This doesn’t seem right, especially not with the knowledge that the police are looking for him. The knocking continues, and he feels himself starting to panic when he hears a voice outside the door.

“Andrés.”

It’s Martín’s voice. He sighs in relief and opens the door, but the relief disappears when sheer panic is painted all over Martín’s face and body. Martín pushes inside and closes the door behind him, before he starts to speak, stumbling over the words.

“Andrés, you have to leave. I’m sorry if I woke you up, shit you were probably sleeping, I’m sorry. I didn’t dare to call you because I didn’t know if they were listening to my calls—”

“Martín, breathe. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t— I don’t—”

Even though Andrés tries to stay as calm as possible, as not to agitate Martín further, he needs to know what the fuck is going on. He slams Martín against the wall with a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Breathe.”

The movement seems to kickstart Martín’s brain. He nods slowly and breathes in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

“Good.”

Andrés loosens his grip.

“Tell me what happened.”

“The art workshop. The organizer saw your face on the news. He remembered seeing me talk to you, so he gave my number to the police, and they called me. I didn’t say anything, don’t worry, I just told them that you asked some questions related to the workshop. But they know you’ve been in this area, you should go. Now.”

“Did they have my name?”

“What? Uh, I don’t think they said it.”

“And you didn’t tell them my name?”

“No, I figured they already had it.”

“They don’t.”

Andrés lets go of Martín and sits down on his bed. He rubs his eyes, thinking. The bed dips when Martín sits down next to him.

“I have to call my brother. He will figure out how to get me out of here.”

“Your brother, is he— a criminal, too?” Martín asks quietly.

“He just happens to have some contacts.”

Andrés finds his phone and calls Sergio to explain the situation to him. When Sergio is finished complaining about being woken up in the middle of the night, and how careless Andrés always is, he gives Andrés the number to one of his contacts and tells him to call the following morning. 

When he turns around after finishing the call, Martín is once again pacing nervously.

“In the morning? It isn’t safe for you to stay here for one more minute. Why can’t they just pick you up now?”

“It’s fine. It would be much more suspicious traveling in the middle of the night. Please calm down.”

Andrés' own panic has subsided, he has a deal with one of Sergio’s contacts now, everything is ready, now he will just have to wait. But Martín’s nervousness makes it hard for him to relax.

“I can’t calm down, okay! What if they suddenly barge into the room and just— just take you away?”

He looks genuinely terrified, so Andrés wraps his arms around him.

“No one is going to take me away. You just talked to the police, right? They didn’t even have my name, and you were probably their only possibility right now. They don’t have anything else to pursue. And when they find something else, I will already be gone.”

He tries to ignore the feeling his words evoke inside him and the way Martín clings even harder to him after those last words.

“I won’t be able to go back to sleep now, though. How about a hot bath to relax?”

_As long as you don’t go home._

Martín nods against his shoulder. When he finally lets go, Martín looks a little more relaxed than before. 

He enters the bathroom to turn on the water for the tub. Then he undresses, expecting Martín to do the same, but he doesn’t. 

“Do you need some help?”

“Huh? Oh.”

He’s apparently been lost in his own thoughts, and only now realizes that Andrés is naked. He’s openly staring, and Andrés enjoys the attention when he walks to him and pulls his shirt over his head. He decides to tease him a bit and starts kissing his neck, and soon Martín is squirming against the wall, while Andrés pulls down his pants to reveal an already very hard cock. He presses his body against Martín’s and kisses him deeply. He’s going to miss the feeling of this body against his when he leaves in the morning.

Without a word he takes Martín’s hand and leads him to the bathtub. 

His plan was to just have a relaxing bath, but those plans change quickly when he finds Martín on top of him, kissing and licking on his neck, and suddenly he’s the one to squirm. Especially when Martín starts stroking his cock way too slowly with one hand, while the other one moves between his legs, to his balls. He seems to hesitate before he says:

“I want to try something.”

His fingers move further back, and Andrés expects him to massage the exact same spot as last time, which he enjoyed very much, so he mumbles an “mmm”. But suddenly Martín’s finger is circling his hole, and Andrés’ eyes fly open. 

“Martín—”

“Trust me, okay? I’m sure you’re going to like it, but tell me to stop, and I will. Please.”

It’s easy to hear that Martín wants this very much, to please Andrés, and despite his nervousness, he finds himself nodding. Martín bends one of Andrés’ legs to get more space.

“You have to relax.”

Andrés takes a deep breath, but when Martín’s finger pushes inside him, however careful he is, all of his muscles clench at the same time. It feels weird. Martín’s finger is completely still when he kisses Andrés, giving him time to get used to the feeling before he pushes it a little further. This continues until Martín’s finger is buried inside Andrés, and Andrés manages to relax around it. The feeling when Martín begins moving it is still weird, but not at all unpleasant. Martín looks so concentrated on doing it right, biting his lip and frowning. 

When he draws out and adds another finger, Andrés has to bite his lip, but the feeling is rather nice. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Martín asks hesitantly. Andrés shakes his head.

“No, keep going.”

When Martín curls his fingers for the first time, Andrés isn’t prepared, and the water splashes over the edge and onto the floor when he arches his back. 

“Fuck, Martín.”

“We’ll get to that,” he laughs, proud to elicit such a reaction from Andrés. 

Andrés is panting violently, feeling like his body is on fire. Martín settles next to Andrés, pressed against him, his cock incredibly hard against Andrés’ thigh. He wants to touch it, but Martín’s fingers keep sliding in and out of him, hitting that good spot every time, and he really can’t concentrate on anything else. Martín is moaning in his ear, and it’s amazing that he enjoys it as much as Andrés does.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Amazing,” Andrés manages to croak out between his gasps. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Martín whispers in his ear. He’s grinding against Andrés’ thigh, more desperate now. 

“One day,” he pants, “I am going to bury my cock inside you.”

Martín’s words go directly to Andrés’ cock, and he doesn’t know if it’s an effect of Martín’s fingers up his ass, or the thought of this being their last day together, but the thought of Martín’s cock inside him is very appealing. 

He turns to Martín and grabs his jaw, looking intensely into his eyes while saying:

“I would very much like that.”

Martín’s breath hitches when he pulls away from Andrés as if burned, his eyes wide with what looks like shock. 

“Fuck, Andrés! Fuck, I thought I was going to come,” he pants, followed by a smile. “The thought of— fuck. I need a moment.”

Andrés just chuckles and strokes his hair. The thought that Martín almost got off just by pleasuring him only adds to his own desire. 

“Can I fuck you?” Andrés asks after a while, his voice raspy, and his cock begging for attention.

“Always,” Martín replies in an instant and withdraws the fingers from Andrés’ ass. Andrés doesn’t move, and Martín gets the hint and straddles him, slowly lowering himself onto Andrés’ cock.

Martín moves slowly, which is good, because otherwise Andrés would have come after a minute. But this is good, somehow it’s perfect for the last time— 

The words in Andrés’ mind almost makes him stop breathing, he isn’t ready for this to be their last time. 

As on cue, Martín looks desperately into his eyes, grabbing his own cock.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

He leans in for a kiss, which lasts until Andrés comes inside Martín. Martín follows him close, spilling on Andrés’ chest, his eyes glassy. 

“Where are you going?” Martín asks when they’re laying in bed, all naked and entangled in each other. 

“I don’t know yet, Sergio promised me to find some place safe. Probably somewhere in Europe.”

Martín buries his head under Andrés’ neck.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Andrés takes a deep breath before he says:

“You could come with me?”

It isn’t the first time that idea pops into his head, since he found out that he had to leave. At first, he ignored it, because it was a stupid idea. There was no reason for Martín to leave, just because a man that he just met had fucked up. But the idea refused to go away, and now he can’t escape it anymore. Maybe it’s not as stupid as he initially thought. 

Martín is quiet for a while, so Andrés continues.

“I know you don’t fully trust me right now, but I—” he stops, searching for the right word “—I like you, and I think we could do great things together.”

Martín pulls back, one eyebrow raised. 

“You like me. Could you elaborate on that?”

There’s a teasing to his tone, and the corner of Andrés’ mouth curls up into a half-smile. 

“I don’t think I’m able to right now.”

“I mean, do you like drawing me, fucking me, or is it— something more?”

Martín is blushing, clearly hating to ask the question, but Andrés understands why he has to know before considering following him out of the country. Martín avoids Andrés’ eyes, but Andrés places a finger under his chin and tilts his head, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Definitely something more.” 

Martín smiles softly.

“I like you too. Very much.”

There’s a pause before Martín speaks again.

“I might as well do it. I mean, I have to be out of my apartment in a week anyway. My landlord needs me to pay rent, and my job as a nude model didn’t pay as well as I hoped.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you out.”

“Wasn’t your problem. But, theoretically speaking, what would I do if I followed you? I mean, I don’t have a job, I won’t be able to pay rent there, either.”

“Money isn’t going to be an issue. Sergio finds a place for me - for us - there will be no rent to pay.”

“Shit, I can’t just leave.” Martín props himself up on one elbow, Andrés can barely see his silhouette in the dark room. “Or can I? I have nothing here, really. No job, no family.”

“You could always go back, if you don’t like it.”

Martín lays back down. 

“I can’t see why I wouldn’t like it, as long as you’re there.”

Andrés is pulled in for a kiss, which gets them both panting in no time, as if they didn’t just fuck in the bathtub. The thought that they really should get some sleep makes Andrés break the kiss, trying to ignore that Martín practically chases his mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

The wide smile spreading on Martín’s face is answer enough, but Martín still speaks.

“I guess it is.”

Andrés pulls him close, and Martín rests his head on his chest, running his fingers through the patch of hair. 

“We should get some sleep, I’ll have to call Sergio’s contact in a couple of hours, and then we’ll leave.”

Martín’s fingers stop moving after a couple of minutes, and his relaxed breathing tells Andrés that he’s asleep. He hopes the loud beating of his heart doesn’t wake him.

When the alarm on Andrés phone goes off after a way too short time, Martín doesn’t even move. It takes all of Andrés’ willpower not to stay under the sheets with him, but he has a call to make. Sergio’s contact, Hugo, thinks it will be too risky for Andrés to take a cab, so he promises to send a guy to pick him up near the hotel in an hour. 

An hour would be enough time for a quick fuck before they leave, if it wasn’t for the fact that Martín is impossible to wake up. Instead, Andrés leaves a note for him and goes to the restaurant downstairs to pick up a couple of croissants for breakfast. 

When he gets back, Martín still hasn't moved an inch. Andrés shakes him gently. Then he shakes him more violently, and finally, he opens his eyes. 

“We have to go soon.”

Martín mumbles something and sits up, rubbing his eyes. Andrés picks up his clothes from the floor and throws them in front of Martín.

“Get dressed. I got some breakfast for us.”

“Wow, you’re awfully bossy for this time of the day,” Martín grunts, but does as he’s told. Then he sits back down, and after a couple of minutes reality seems to hit him. 

“This could go wrong, right?”

“Martín, we’ve already been over this. Nothing goes wrong.”

Andrés starts eating his croissant, and hands one to Martín, which he accepts, but doesn’t eat. 

“This driver, does your brother know him, too? What if he’s—”

“My brother isn’t a novice, and I trust the people he trusts. He would never put me in danger.”

Martín starts biting his finger instead of the croissant, and Andrés moves closer and puts an arm around him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says and places a soft kiss on his temple. “You should eat your croissant.”

“I’m not hungry.” 

During the 45 minutes ride to the private plane, Martín is still certain that everything will go wrong, and he keeps clutching Andrés’ hand. He doesn’t say much, but he’s tense, and however sleepy he was at the hotel, he refuses to close his eyes. So Andrés tells him some stories about his past, in an attempt to make him think of something else.

He’s still tense when they arrive at the private plane, where Sergio’s contact meets them. He gives Andrés a polite nod and looks at Martín, who stands a little behind Andrés, nervously eyeing the plane. 

“You want my driver to take him back after you’ve said your goodbyes?” Hugo says and nods to Martín.

“That won’t be necessary, he comes with me.”

“I’m sorry, but I was only asked to bring you with me.”

Andrés glances quickly at Martín, who looks like he forgot how to breathe. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” Andrés says to Hugo, forcing a polite smile. 

“Again, I’m sorry, but you can’t bring anyone with you.”

Andrés clenches his jaw and breathes out through his nose. He is too damn tired to deal with shit like this right now. He turns to Martín and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I will talk to my brother. You’re going with me. Come here.”

With an arm around Martín, he walks away from Hugo and takes out his phone. Martín is tense under his arm.

“Martín, please breathe, everything is going to fall into place,” he says before letting go of him and dialing Sergio’s number.

_Pick up, pick up, pick up._

“Hello.”

“Sergio, I need to bring someone with me on the plane.”

He doesn’t miss the deep sigh on the other end of the phone call. 

“Andrés, maybe you should think twice about that? You’re on this vacation because of your last divorce, and look how that turned out. Bringing another woman into your life—”

“It’s not a woman,” Andrés interrupts him in an angry tone, getting Martín’s attention.

There’s a pause.

“Who is it then?”

“His name is Martín, and he’s coming with me.”

“And why exactly does this Martín have to go with you?”

Andrés swallows. He looks into Martín’s blue eyes, wide with fear and expectation. His hair is still ruffled from just getting out of bed, and Andrés thinks back to the first day they met, when his hair looked just the same. It was just days ago, and they have already been through so much together. He can’t let it end here.

“Because— I’m in love with him.”

If possible, Martín’s eyes get even wider hearing those words. His lips part slightly, and Andrés flashes him a soft smile. Martín smiles back and blushes. Of course he does. Andrés has to force himself to concentrate on Sergio’s next words.

“You’re— excuse me.”

Sergio is silent, and Andrés can’t help but chuckle.

“Talk to Hugo and tell him to bring Martín, too, or I won’t come.”

With those words, he hands the phone to Hugo. It merely takes a minute before Hugo hands the phone back, nodding once. 

“He can come with you.” 

“Thank you, Hugo.”

They both follow him onto the plane and get seated and offered a variety of drinks. Andrés immediately pours them both a glass of whisky. He hands a glass to Martín, who instantly drinks most of it, only wincing slightly.

“Martín, I’m sorry, I didn’t think there would be a problem—”

“You’re in love with me?”

Well, they had to address it sooner or later. 

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Martín looks offended, but his eyes are glistening with expectation. Andrés takes a sip of his whisky.

“I guess I only just realized what I was feeling.”

“You’re so cute,” Martín says before breaking into a huge smile, and that might be the first time Andrés has been called cute. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, but then Martín kisses him deeply, and it doesn’t really matter, that man can call him whatever he wants to.

When the plane takes off, they break the kiss, and Martín looks out the window. He’s a whirlwind of emotions right now, Andrés sees it in his eyes. 

“You should try to get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long flight.” 

Martín reaches for his hand, squeezes it, and leans his head against Andrés’ shoulder.

“I’m glad you asked me to go with you.” Martín’s voice is already drowsy.

“And I’m glad you decided to come.”

Andrés realizes that he really is. It’s like confessing his feelings has somehow made them more real. More intense. With Martín’s calm breathing in his ear and the view of the city getting smaller underneath them, he knows that whatever this turns out to be, whatever he got himself into, it’s going to be extraordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> I knew it was going to end sooner or later (should have been sooner, but I was slow af), but now the day has finally come, and-- I'm not ready. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And I hope you liked the ending <3
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, it's amazing to know that there are actual people out there excited to read my stuff. I LOVE YOU.


End file.
